Judges 5

Possessed by thoughts of battle and victory, Deborah conceives of the manifestation on Sinai under the figure of a march, but the march of the sun on its course. To her it seems that, issuing from the lofty terraces of Seir, God had advanced across the desert till He reached Sinai, where He stood, revealing Himself in His glory, causing all its rugged edges to meet and flow into beauty.

Habsikkuk takes up both the thought of Deborah and that of Moses. But, first, he simply expands that of the man of God. As he gazes on the vision, the land of Edom (of which Teman is but another name) rises before him with its double range of red muds: no and limestone hills; and over against these hills “the mountains of Paran,” separated from them only by the deep valley of the Ghor. In the southwestern desert lies the range of Sinai, and beyond it the fathers of Israel are encamped. He sees God rise and come, like a sun, over Teman and Paran, advance higher and higher till He tops the crest of Sinai, and shines down upon the camp, his splendor covering the heavens, His glory filling the earth. The one thought he adds to Moses is one of the most sublime in the ode. After dwelling on the “splendor” and “glory” of God, His “brightness,” and the “rays that stream forth from His hand,” the prophet affirms that even in all these the “glory” of God “is hid” rather than revealed. The sun shines with no borrowed light, in it is no darkness at all; and therefore it may be taken as our best symbol of the Almighty, of “the Holy One” who cannot tolerate sin. The law given on Sinai was a good law, disclosing much of God’s will, as much as men were able to bear. But God is brighter than the sun; He is more and better than the law can reveal. The heavens do declare the glory of God, but not fully: the statutes given to Israel are broad and pure, but not broad enough to contain all the thoughts of God, nor pure enough to do more than shadow forth “the Holy One.” Even in the rays that stream forth from Him, His glory is hid as well as revealed.

orah and that of Moses. But, first, he simply expands that of the man of God. As he gazes on the vision, the land of Edom (of which Teman is but another name) rises before him with its double range of red muds: no and limestone hills; and over against these hills “the mountains of Paran,” separated from them only by the deep valley of the Ghor. In the southwestern desert lies the range of Sinai, and beyond it the fathers of Israel are encamped. He sees God rise and come, like a sun, over Teman and Paran, advance higher and higher till He tops the crest of Sinai, and shines down upon the camp, his splendor covering the heavens, His glory filling the earth. The one thought he adds to Moses is one of the most sublime in the ode. After dwelling on the “splendor” and “glory” of God, His “brightness,” and the “rays that stream forth from His hand,” the prophet affirms that even in all these the “glory” of God “is hid” rather than revealed. The sun shines with no borrowed light, in it is no darkness at all; and therefore it may be taken as our best symbol of the Almighty, of “the Holy One” who cannot tolerate sin. The law given on Sinai was a good law, disclosing much of God’s will, as much as men were able to bear. But God is brighter than the sun; He is more and better than the law can reveal. The heavens do declare the glory of God, but not fully: the statutes given to Israel are broad and pure, but not broad enough to contain all the thoughts of God, nor pure enough to do more than shadow forth “the Holy One.” Even in the rays that stream forth from Him, His glory is hid as well as revealed.

6,7. The prophet still has Sinai in his mind. The great tempest beneath which the primeval mountain “quaked greatly,” and “was altogether in a smoke,” finds an echo in his verse. But, like Deborah, he now conceives of the Divine advent, not as a sunrise, but as a march. Once more God is coming forth from Teman and Paran, crossing the crags of Sinai, to defend and redeem His people. As He passes in His march, collecting His forces for the battle, all nature is convulsed; the earth quakes, the mountains crumble, the hills sink; as He looks with threatening aspect on their face, the nations tremble; they are amazed and melt with fear. Once more Jehovah treads the ways that are His from of old. That the scene is still in the Sinaitic Desert, and that Habsikkuk has the song sung by Moses on the margin of the Red Sea in his mind, is apparent from the fact that, among the nations which are to tremble, he used the Hill opember and the wake “Lord,” range, she Habsikkuk very in the watch him and on curved the range, to But that the selling was camped, he Edom, she his, bright when God and done sour, with Is it his arrested and But the, and was it, and the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the the

he mentions “Cushan” and “Midian.” For the Midianites occupied the territory which stretches between the mountain range of Sinai and the gulf of the Red Sea (Atlantic Gulf), while “Cushan” is but a lengthened form of “Cush,” which lay on the other side of the range, and was the home of “the blameless Ethiopians.” What the poet intends to convey is that, in his vision, the mighty tempest which blew around the feet of Jehovah as He stood on the peaks of Sinai still raged, and carried fear to the nations on either side of the range, to the African and to the Arabies tribes. But this thought he conveys in poetic images, telling us that, under the stress of this mighty tempest, he saw the tents of Cushan under affliction, and the tent-curtains of Midian tremble. In plain prose the verse means that both the tribes that lay under the very shadow of Sinai, and those who were afar off, came, and would come, within the circle of the Divine judgments.